Wish Upon a Christmas Cake (24 page)

‘Um, shall we see how things go?’

I glanced at the garden. It was getting dark now and I didn’t really fancy driving the hour and a half back to the flat.

‘You can tell Ann that Holly wanted you to stay,’ Sam suggested. ‘Or that you stayed at your parents’. She doesn’t need to know if you don’t want her to.’

‘You think she’ll buy that?’

‘We’re not horny teenagers, Katie.’ Sam flushed. ‘We are adults and you don’t need anyone’s permission.’

‘I know, I know.’ My cheeks burned.

Sam crossed the kitchen and reached out to me, placing his hands on my shoulders, then he tucked my hair behind my ears. ‘We are consenting adults here, Katie. And I’ve thought long and hard about this since Christmas. We’re not doing anything wrong. Maria was leaving me and even if she hadn’t been, even if we’d been happy, she’s gone.’

‘I just don’t want to be irresponsible.’

‘You’re not being irresponsible, Katie. You’re making an old friend and his two children, and his two dogs, very happy. And I’m not just any man, am I? We have a past that means something.’

He stroked my cheek with his thumb and my knees almost gave way. An old friend? A very special and gorgeous friend indeed. He leant forwards until his face almost touched mine and I held his gaze. His lips met mine and I closed my eyes, moaning into his kiss. Then cold seeped through my jumper and into my bra and my left nipple sprang to attention. I gasped and Sam kissed me harder, pulling me closer.

‘Sam,’ I mumbled into his lips. ‘It’s cold, Sam.’

He nipped at my bottom lip before pulling away and I almost lost my balance. As he moved, the wine bottle did too and I breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Oh no!’ He laughed as he eyed my top. ‘Sorry, I got a bit carried away.’

I followed his gaze and sure enough, there was a big wet mark over my left boob. As he’d moved into me the condensation from the cold bottle had soaked in.

‘I think I needed that cold shower,’ I said, as I grabbed the kitchen roll and dabbed at my jumper, willing my pointy nipple to relax again.

‘I could do with a cold shower too,’ Sam whispered as he kissed the back of my neck, then crossed the kitchen to the drawers and pulled out a bottle opener.

I knew that I should kindly decline then drive back to the flat, but I just couldn’t find it in me to leave. I’d had such a lovely evening and I wanted to have supper with Jack and Holly, then cuddle up on one of their big squishy sofas and watch TV with them. I didn’t want to go back to my lonely bed, to the flat where I felt like a spare part. Ann and Mark did their best not to make me feel like a gooseberry but it was just natural that they needed time alone. If I stayed at Sam’s tonight, I’d be doing Ann and Mark a favour too.

And anyway, I was fairly certain after that kiss and what Sam had said that he didn’t want me to go either. So I’d stay. For his sake, for Jack and Holly’s, and for Ann and Mark’s. It was the right thing to do.

Wasn’t it?

***

Sam was quite impressive in the kitchen. He made me take a seat at the table then he whizzed around the kitchen chopping onions, mushrooms and herbs, then throwing them into a pan with minced beef and putting garlic bread into the oven. Before I knew it, the kitchen was filled with the delicious aromas of garlic and tomatoes. I sat at the table sipping my wine and letting the relaxing tones of Kenny G’s saxophone wash over me. Holly and Jack were currently plonked in front of the TV in the lounge watching some kids’ detective series and I found the knowledge that they were nearby comforting. Was I actually admitting to enjoying cosy domesticity?

‘So you can cook then?’ I raised my eyebrows at Sam as he poured a generous glug of red wine into the bolognese.

‘Oh absolutely.’

‘I don’t recall you being that handy in the kitchen.’

He grinned, then cupped a hand around the side of his mouth. ‘I’m like Jamie Oliver but only with chilli or spag bol. This is my specialty…the dish I use to impress the ladies.’

My stomach clenched, even though I knew he was only teasing.

‘Oh yeah?’ I lifted my glass. ‘And you get much success from this specialty dish, do you?’ I eyed him over the rim of white wine, breathing in the honeysuckle and mango notes.

He turned to me, his tomato-covered wooden spoon in the air and winked. ‘Well, my dear Katie Warham. That is what I hope to discover tonight.’

He stared at me, holding my gaze, and I tingled all over as if I’d just washed in mint shower gel. His attention was invigorating, exciting and addictive. My cheeks burnt and I forced myself to lower my eyes. Was he saying that he wanted me…tonight?

‘Sorry,’ he whispered. ‘Too much?’

I shook my head. ‘No. Not too much.’
Not enough!
‘I just…uh…’
I’m so hot for you!

‘I like having you sitting at my table, Katie. It feels natural.’ He stirred the spaghetti with a fork, then pulled out a strand and nibbled the end of it.

‘I like being here too, Sam,’ I said. ‘Can I use the bathroom before we eat?’

‘Upstairs.’ He pointed with the fork. ‘Straight in front of you when you get to the first landing.’

‘Thanks.’

I left the kitchen and passed the lounge, peeking in on the children as I went. They were glued to the screen, the bulldogs passed out on the floor in front of them, the image of domestic bliss.

I climbed the stairs and located the bathroom. It was extremely clean, white and minimalistic. White walls, white tiles and white bathroom suite. The only colour came from a variety of toys which sat along the tap end of the deep tub. The room smelt of cleaning products and bubble bath, that comforting homely smell of a house that’s lived in.

After I’d washed and dried my hands, I switched off the light and stepped out onto the landing. I knew I should go straight downstairs but the temptation was just too much. It edged through me like an itch screaming out to be scratched and I surrendered. Just a quick peek wouldn’t hurt, would it?

I crept across the landing and gently opened the first door. It sung wide to reveal a little girl’s room. Pink and purple walls, bedding and curtains. There were Barbies, Sylvanians and an assortment of other toys all over the floor. On a petite desk equipped with a matching stool, there was an open colouring book and a few crayons of different lengths. So little Holly wasn’t a tidy child. That made me grin. She clearly started one game, then changed her mind and moved on to another. I pulled the door shut then tried the next one.

Jack’s room. I bit my lip to hold back my gasp of surprise. Surely a young boy didn’t own this green and yellow room? It was so neat and tidy. Everything was neatly packed into plastic tubs or stacked on shelves and the bed was perfectly made. How could this room belong to a child? It tugged at my heart as I stood there staring. Was this how Jack coped then? By controlling his things and keeping everything he owned in perfect order. I tiptoed back out, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. Sam was doing a wonderful job but I could see that Jack was missing something that he needed. Was he being so neat and tidy to help his father out? Was his control over his own space a reaction to losing his mother? I yearned to help him, to scoop him up into my arms and mother him. Yet simultaneously, I feared what that meant. Could I live up to the job?

The final door was next to another staircase that I assumed must lead up to the attic. I pushed it open then stepped inside. The moonlight shone through the window and it bathed the room in a warm yellow glow. There was a double bed made up with cream bed linen, a matching mahogany dresser, two double wardrobes stood side by side and a dressing table. The stool in front of the table was covered in clothes that looked like they’d been abandoned in a hurry. On the bedside cabinet nearest the window was a pile of books, a bendy-necked lamp and a glass with about an inch of water in it. I smiled. Sam wasn’t as fastidious as his son.

On the other bedside table was a framed photograph. I crept across and lifted it, holding it towards the light. My stomach lurched. It showed a pretty blonde woman beaming at the camera. Her hair fell fetchingly around her face and in her arms was a tiny red-faced baby wrapped in a blue hospital issue blanket. I peered at the baby, trying to decide if it was Jack or Holly.

‘What are you doing?’

I froze.
Uh oh!
I’d been caught out nosing around.

I placed the photograph back in its place then turned to face the inquisition. Jack stood in the doorway, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face.

‘I was…looking for the bathroom,’ I lied, hoping that he hadn’t heard the chain flush earlier.

‘Oh. Well this is Daddy’s room. Come on, I’ll show you to the bathroom.’ He held out a hand and I stared at it.

‘Thanks, Jack. Silly me, eh? But I saw the photo and wondered…is that you and your mummy?’

He took my hand and led me out into the hallway, then closed the door behind us. ‘Yes.’

‘You were a handsome baby.’

He eyed me as if trying to work out whether I was telling the truth. I waited. And waited. Feeling that I would wilt under the intensity of his eight-year-old gaze.

‘Thank you.’ He finally broke the silence and I exhaled slowly. ‘My mummy was lovely. I miss her.’

‘Of course you do, Jack, and I bet she misses you too.’

He lowered his gaze and kicked at the carpet with his bare toes. ‘Maybe. Now Daddy says hurry up because dinner is ready.’

‘Of course!’ I clicked my heels together and saluted him. The action brought a smile to his face that warmed me right through.

‘Can you find your own way back down, Katie?’

I nodded.

‘You’re very lucky having Daddy’s spag bol, you know. He only cooks it for people he likes.’ He flashed me a grin then ran off down the stairs, taking them two at a time in a way that made my heart flutter. I fought the urge to tell him to be careful. He needed to be more carefree, more of a child. Not to carefully measure each step before he took it. At Christmas I’d seen him as a young boy, watched him enjoying the festivities, but at home, he seemed more serious and somehow older than his years. Perhaps being away had allowed him to forget, if just for a little while, the tough reality of losing a parent.

Jack’s words rang in my ears as I went back into the bathroom and rewashed my hands. Sam only made his bolognese for people he liked. And Jack had cared enough to tell me. Did this mean that both of them liked me enough to want me around?

Could I really be that lucky?

As I skipped down the stairs, mimicking Jack’s childish descent, I found myself really hoping that I was right.

Chapter 18

Dinnertime was hilarious. Watching two young children attempting to get forkfuls of spaghetti into their mouths was one of the funniest things I have ever seen. I sat there, sucking up strands of pasta and taking regular sips of my wine to hide my smiles.

Jack and Holly both ended up with smiles to rival that of the Joker and I half expected one of them to come out with a movie quote at any moment. At intervals, I caught Sam looking my way. The warmth in his gaze lit me up inside and I started to get butterflies as I thought about what might happen when the kids went to bed.

When we’d finished eating, I helped Sam to clear the plates away, then I washed up while he dried. Holly and Jack asked for ice cream and I saw Sam hesitate for a moment, clearly unsure about whether to allow it as they’d eaten so much at the cinema but then he gave in.

‘I guess it’s okay…it is a special occasion,’ he said, winking at me.

‘Is it?’

‘Well, yes. We have a guest for dinner.’ Sam spooned scoops of Neapolitan ice cream into bowls, then set them on the table for the children.

As they tucked in, I helped him to put the plates and cutlery away.

‘So have you had a good day?’ I asked.

He nodded. ‘It’s been great. Thanks for coming to the cinema. It really helps having someone else tagging along. It’s tough doing it alone, especially when Holly needs the toilet and, you know, things like that.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘Of course, it’s more than that.’ He smiled as he hung the tea towel over the rail above the radiator. ‘I like having you around. A lot.’

I fought the urge to punch the air with a fist.

‘I like being around,’ I replied. ‘A lot.’

‘Daddy, can we watch a movie now?’ Jack asked as he hopped from one foot to the other on the kitchen tiles.

Sam glanced at the clock. ‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, buddy. It’s quite late.’

‘Oh please?’ Holly stood next to Sam and grabbed his leg.

I wanted to help Sam out. ‘How about if you watch the first half an hour while your dinner goes down, then it’ll be time for a bath and to get ready for bed? You can watch the rest tomorrow then, if it’s okay with your dad.’

‘Great idea!’ Jack shouted and took my hand and shook it up and down. ‘Clever Katie! Clever Katie!’

I giggled as the children ran into the lounge and I heard them debate which movie to watch.

‘Was that all right?’ I took a step closer to Sam. ‘I don’t want to talk out of turn. I just wanted to help out then and I…I uh…’ My words disappeared as my brain disengaged. Sam wound his fingers into my hair and pulled me towards him. As he pressed his lips to mine, I could smell garlic and wine and that delicious scent that was all his own. I wanted this man. But not just once. I knew that if I ever got lucky enough to actually be with him again, then once would not be enough.

I would want him for ever.

He pulled back slightly and squinted at me. ‘Can’t see you very well this close, Katie. But holding you and kissing you just feels right. Like coming home.’

‘Uh huh.’
Do it some more!

And he did. He feathered soft little kisses over my lips then as his breathing quickened, he slid his tongue into my mouth and ran it over mine. I felt my own tongue come to life, as if independent of my body, and it flickered back at his, tangling with it in a heated dance of passion. A moan escaped from deep in my throat and heat flooded through me. Sam grabbed my leg and pulled it up to his hip, squeezing my thigh with his large strong hand. As he reached around and cupped my behind, I wrapped my arms around his neck and surrendered to my desire.